


Like Mistletoe

by seventeensteps



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mistletoe, i just want to write about them kissing, self-indulgent fic, that's all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 22:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6773692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventeensteps/pseuds/seventeensteps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They happen upon one suspicious-looking mistletoe and Tony insists on kissing, because that's the tradition, right?</p><p>From this prompt:<br/><span class="small">Tony kisses Steve just to annoy him (bc he hates it), but ending up being kissed senselessly.<br/>- <a href="https://twitter.com/Kdragon_sky/status/728102764241256453">kdragonsky</a></span></p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kdragonsky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kdragonsky/gifts).



> I saw the prompt and I just wanted a happy kiss for them after the bittersweet pain that is Civil War. (I don't think this is exactly what you wanted, sister, but well.) *runs away*

“Come on, Cap.”

The man says, closing his eyes, turning in his stool toward Steve, both his hands behind his back. He tilts his chin up, a mischievous little smile playing on his lips. It makes Steve’s hands itch.

“Tony,” he says, and inwardly cringes. It came out sounding a bit too strained than he intended.

Tony tilts his head. “Go on, give me a little smooch. We’re under the mistletoe after all.”

And isn’t that the biggest problem of Steve’s life right now? Steve knows just from looking that Tony does this just to annoy him. Because there’s no way he’s using the stupid mistletoe as an excuse. Steve wishes he could say the same for himself.

It was Nat who pointed at them when she glided into the communal room.

“What?” Tony had said, a spoonful of cheerios stopped midair. Then she pointed at the air above them and Steve found that it wasn’t empty. He almost choked on the chunk of waffle in his mouth.

Natasha only smirked. She grabbed two red apples from the basket on the countertop they were having breakfast on and then sauntered out of the room, fiery hair flowing over her shoulders, with, “Have fun, boys.”

Which brought Steve to _The Situation_.

Steve ears are currently trying to burn themselves off his head. Probably his cheeks, too, now. Good thing Tony’s eyes are closed. His lashes are so long, though.

This is very, very bad.

“Steve?” Tony opens one eye and looks at him. And Steve doesn’t know if it’s the way Tony parts his lips just a little or the way his voice made Steve’s name tremble a bit or just the fact that it’s _him_ , but.

He vaguely hears the sound of his defense cracking. “Just on the cheek.”

Tony closes his eye and Steve has to remind himself of the words he told Tony.

He leans in, hands fisting in his lap, and aims for Tony’s right cheek.

It would have connected, if Tony hasn’t moved his face just _so_. Their lips touch for a light, fleeting millisecond, and Tony pulls away.

He can already see an amused smile locking in place, something probably dismissive and funny forming on the mouth that _has just touched Steve’s_ , but then Steve catches a glimpse of something wistful in his expression before his face is a mask of joviality. Suddenly, there’s an urgent voice inside him telling him to _do something_.

“Well, now I can tell my kids, _if_ I have them, I mean, that I got a kiss on the lips from Captain Ameri-”

“Tony-”

“-ca. Wow, I got you there, didn’t I? I was kidding, Steve. I’m not the type to kiss and tell. Really. It’s all because of the media-“

“Tony.”

“I promise I won’t tell anybody. Our very short-lived secret affair dies with me. It’ll stay with me-”

“Can I kiss you again?”

“-in my grave- _What_?” Tony’s wide melting brown eyes staring at him, looking a bit like a deer caught in the headlights.

He sighs, smiling what he hopes is a fond, gentle smile in an attempt to reassure both Tony and himself. Steve inhales deeply, one hand coming up to rest on the side of Tony’s head, relishing in the feeling of those soft curls against his fingers, before repeating his question, “Can I… kiss you again?”

Steve almost tips his head down and plants another one on those lips at the sight of guarded hope blooming across Tony’s expression.

“If it’s because of the mistletoe, you don’t have to,” Tony breaks off, then continues with a quiet “Once is okay.”

His thumb caresses the skin near the corner of that mouth. “Tony, it’s because of you.”

Tony looks up at him in the eyes then, some kind of determination set in the pair of liquid chocolate, as if daring him to actually do it. “Go ahead, then.”

Steve follows the words.

The kiss begins as soft and slow and simple as he’s able to manage. Tony is rigid, and it sets the sinking feeling in his gut, that maybe he’s reading it utterly and completely wrong, but then Tony moves, and opens up to the kiss.

Steve feels himself falling harder and deeper and wonders that after everything he’s been through, will he finally meet his end here, at the acceptance of those lips.

Don’t let it be said that he isn’t willing to find out.

Steve doesn’t realize Tony is in his lap until he feels the other grind down on him and a soft moan is being suppressed against his bottom lip. The sting is heady and Steve can’t seem to get enough of it. His hands are splayed wide across Tony’s narrow waist, one travels south, and kneads one cheek of the flesh rolling on top of him, pulling it even closer.

“Fuck,” Tony grunts, panting against the corner of Steve’s mouth. He turns his head slightly to capture those sinful lips in his own again, drinking the little delicious sounds Tony makes into his mouth. Tony’s beautiful fingers tangle in his hair, tugging it, messing it up, making Steve growl, their tongues pushing the kiss into something downright filthy.

The possibility of coming inside his pants is embarrassingly high right now, so Steve makes up his mind, secures both hands around Tony’s butt, and stands up.

“Holy sh- Oh my _god_ ,” Tony exclaims, both arms tighten behind Steve’s shoulders. “You have _no_ idea how hot this is.”

Steve readjusts his grip, and accidentally makes both of them moan, the sound obscene and utterly inappropriate in the sunlight of the communal space. Steve can’t believe things escalate to this. Tony is gnawing at the side of his jaw, but, “Tony, maybe we should go a bit more slowly.”

The mouth stops, and Tony has to lean back a little to look at him like Steve is out of his mind. “Are you fucking serious just now?”

Um. “No.”

“Good,” Tony says, then resumes the attack on his throat. Steve wills himself to walk faster.

“Your room or my room?” he asks when they’re in the elevator, Tony braced against the wall.

“Shit, Steve,” Tony groans, his head banging the metal wall, when Steve sucks a hickey onto the patch of skin just under the left collarbone. The words come out rather out of breath. “Mine. Mine has a California king.”

He snorts, “Uh huh.”

Despite Steve’s earlier urgency into getting into a room and onto a bed, it takes them more than several minutes to actually achieve that.

All in all, however, Steve will find out who hung that mistletoe and thank them later.

 

\--

 

“Do you know that mistletoe is a kind of parasite?” Tony asks him after, finger writing formulas onto the skin of Steve’s arm, his back pressed against Steve’s chest.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It latches itself onto a part of a host tree, and lives off the water and nutrients of that tree. Sometimes it grows so much that it takes over the host, killing it entirely.”

Steve thinks about this, and says, “Love is like mistletoe, then.” He kisses the nape of Tony’s neck. It attaches itself on you without your consent, and seeing someone you love so much walk in to a room sometimes makes you feel like you can’t breathe although the others look like they’re doing just fine.

Tony hums, and buries himself closer into Steve’s arms. “Maybe it is.”

 


End file.
